


Legs So She Can Wander (Legs So He Can Wonder)

by sockitup



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Dirty Talk, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rule 63, ultimately requited sexual desires and always apparent affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:23:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22505821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sockitup/pseuds/sockitup
Summary: Five moments over the course of Jess Carter and Mike Richards friendship in which Mike is distracted by how long Jess's legs are, and how much he would like to have his face between them.-*-Jess is his best friend. He wants her to be happy, and her best self, and to hang out with her so he can catch every one of the quiet things she says under her breath.He also wants to eat her cunt until she can’t be quiet anymore, and cums screaming while she pulls his hair. Whatever. That can stay in his head.
Relationships: Jeff Carter/Mike Richards
Comments: 11
Kudos: 186





	Legs So She Can Wander (Legs So He Can Wonder)

-*1*-

It’s stupid that it starts with hockey garters, looking back. Garters are just what hockey players wear. They are not sexy; they’re sweaty and made of an oddly textured polyester. They aren't the garters from magazine centerfolds, where there’s lace and inviting poses and exposed skin.

Mike’s never seen a woman in real lingerie before. He’s seen Victoria Secret bras and that seems like that’s plenty as far as he’s concerned.

But looking across the room at Jess Carter’s long legs, the garters on over her under armour holding up red pants? Mikes starting to get it, how hot it’d be if he was seeing bare, soft skin at the top of hockey pants or some nice lace, red or black or something that would let the pale skin really shine through. That would be really hot on Jess. Her legs are like a mile long, that’s the first thing that Mike notices about meeting her. The second is that she can drink as much as he can, and the third is that she’s really cool to have a stall across from.

But he does keep coming back to her legs. The garters make it easy to follow the line of her legs all the way up, and sometimes Mike gets distracted while the coach is talking. It's terrible form, because he’s supposed to be one of the leaders.

But Jess’s legs are just. They’re nice.

-*2*-

Jess says she’s a bunny, but the ears are an afterthought. It’s all about the thigh high fishnets and the 5 inches between where they end and the black bodysuit starts. Or at least, that’s where Mike is doing everything in his power to keep his eyes from lingering. Jess is really excited to be dressing up like this, he can tell. She didn’t really get to party in the CHL the same way he did. Where local writers and assistant coaches are willing to lie about the hell the guys cause, it seems like they held the girls to twice as high a standard. That’s the way Jess tells it, and Mike believes her.

So when she drags him to the party store and insists that they’re dressing up and going all out for Halloween, he goes mostly quietly. They’re friends, and friends help friends get blasted and/or laid on Halloween. He doesn’t realize that he’s played himself until he’s sitting outside her dressing room and watching her model each tiny costume. Sexy nurse is okay, sexy vampire is actually really silly, but this bunny thing? It’s taking more self control than Mike is expecting. The peak of soft thighs right at the top of the stockings is making his hands itch in a weird way. He thinks back to some junior exhibition game, where he sat across from her in the locker room, thought ‘those legs’ to himself. He didn’t realize that was going to be the start of a long running problem.

He’d really like to run his hands up her legs, is the thing. He’d like to feel the texture switch between rough lace and warm skin. She’s a hockey player, so he knows that she’ll have firm muscles under his hands, but she never seems to be able to bulk up to anything other than lean. Mike wonder’s what that would feel like.

“Do you like this one?” Jess asks, and Mike suddenly realizes that he has no idea how long he’s been staring at her.

“Yeah, it's probably the best one so far,” he says honestly, “Do you like it?”

“I kind of do, I have a tail.”

She turns around and shakes her ass to emphasize the point, then she does some convoluted pose where she bends her knees to pop out her ass and half turns, half looks over her shoulder at him. It should look stupid, but it doesn’t. It really, really doesn’t.

“You should buy that one. Old Town’s not going to know what hit them,” Mike says.

She beams, and does a weird little jump before she goes right back into the changing room. Mike looks up at the ceiling and breaths. Jess is his best friend. That’s not a lie, no matter how much the media, or the rest of the team, or his brother thinks that ‘best friend’ is a code. He wants her to be happy, and her best self, and to hang out with her so he can catch every one of the quiet things she says under her breath.

He also wants to eat her cunt until she can’t be quiet anymore, and cums screaming while she pulls his hair. Whatever. That can stay in his head.

Jess reemerges before he goes too far down that particular path, thankfully. But apparently, and Mike was not told this going in, now he has to buy a costume.

“Can’t I just be a hockey player?” he asks.

“What are you, 8?” she asks. “Are you going to roller skate from house to house?”

“No, but what the fuck am I supposed to be?”

“Something sexy,” Jess says with determination, “if I’m wearing something sexy you have to wear something sexy.”

That idea is enough to shut up, so he lets her bully him into buying a police uniform a size smaller than he should be wearing.

They rent a limo for Halloween because no one on the team has any chill, least of all Joffrey. But that does mean that they’re not out in public when he and Jess both decide that they’re too drunk for seats and that sliding down to the floor is a much better option. Mike’s hat comes off his head on the way down; Jess’s bunny ears have been on the floor for a while already. Mike picks them up and puts them on his head instead. Jess tries to protest, and Carbomb puts Mike’s police hat on her head instead.

Mike doesn’t notice Loops taking pictures of them sitting on the ground with their swapped headgear, legs on top of each other, both clearly drunk but happy. He is grateful when Loops hands him a print of it a few weeks later, no note or raised eyebrows or occasion. He just tells Mike he thought Mike might want it.

So maybe Loops has good ideas sometimes.

-*3*-

  
Jess really seems to live for the beach, and she’s just as clueless as anyone else as to where she got it from if you ask her. Mike thinks it's kind of funny, but he’s also glad that she has somewhere to go that she likes so much, even if it is New Jersey. He doesn’t go with her every time, but she did ask for him to come specifically for this three day weekend and it's not like he could say no.

It seems like all Jess packed were bikinis, and like, small ones at that, however. Mike’s doing his best not to lose his mind about it. It's not going great.

Actually Mike can admit it's not just the bikinis. It's also that her skin is glowing from the sun, her hair is even blonder, she’s dancing around into Frisbee games and volleyball games, casually showing everyone else up. Jess is a world class athlete. She’s not really showing off, just relishing in how quick she can be even at non hockey things. She also happens to be wearing a small yellow string bikini, and that’s also happens to be great for Mike. So sue him.

Jess doesn’t stick with the game for very long. She taps out, runs into the ocean, then runs back right away to lie next to Mike on the blanket. Mike is sort of napping, so he generally ignores her until she kicks him. It's not a real kick, it's more like knocking their legs together. Mike opens one eye and looks at her.

Her face is very close to his, close enough that he can see her barely there freckles

“We have to leave in an hour,” she says.

“Why?”

“You’ll see when we get there,” she answers, and presses her knee into him again.

Mike goes back to lightly dozing. He thinks about how Jess’s leg is warm against his. How her legs would be warm around his waist. Probably be warm hanging off his shoulders too, pressed against his back and on his neck. She vaguely smells like sunblock, in a sunny way. But she also smells like salt, would probably taste like salt, if Mike rolled over and licked her throat. Maybe trailed down and licked her stomach, the inside of her thigh, untied the infuriating yellow bikini and had access to all this new salty skin, chasing down where the wetness of the ocean turns into a different kind of wet, chasing where he’d actually like to know what she tastes like.

Self preservation instincts kick in, and Mike sits up to remind himself that he is in public and sitting next to his best friend and these are not thoughts for broad daylight.

Jess sits up next to him.

“Ready to go?” she asks so brightly, as brightly as her swimsuit and as brightly as the sun around them, and he couldn’t say no if he tried.

Jess leads the way to her rented jeep, and give absolutely no clues as to where she’s driving him to. It's only about a five minute ride until she pulls into a house, further down the beach. It's away from the crowd, with a porch that opens right onto the sand of the beach. She parks and motions for Mike to follow her inside. She has a key.

He’s pretty sure that Jess wouldn’t take him to meet someone new without warning him, particularly when they were both directly off the beach, so he doesn’t know what to expect when she opens the door. Definitely not a completely empty house.

It's also beautiful: there are two story floor to ceiling windows facing the beach, a nice breeze already coming in. They’ve walked into the kitchen, but the whole thing is an open floor plan with wood floors that look amazing. There’s an upstairs as well, which Jess leads him up smiling. It's got bedrooms, a big one with a bathroom and two more empty rooms. There’s an open area before you even walk into the bedrooms, with a railing so you can look out of the high part of the two story windows. The view is even better up there, you can see out to some of the boats that you just can’t see if you’re not higher up.

“Do you like it?” Jess asks. If Mike didn’t know better he’d say she sounds nervous.

“What, the house?” Jess nods at him, “Yeah it's really nice. You can see everything. It's so sunny. Deck looks great for having people over.”

“There a fire pit too,” Jess adds.

“Really cool, yeah,” Mike looks around again, then back at her.

“It's my house. I closed on it yesterday. It's mine,” Jess blurts out.

“You bought a house? You bought this house,” he repeats slowly.

“Yeah,” she says, and the next thing Mike knows he has Jess in his arms, off her feet, and they’re spinning in circles.

He’s chanting ‘you bought a house’ while she’s chanting ‘I bought a beach house’ and that’s when Mike feels her wrap her legs around his waist. He doesn’t stop spinning, tries not to let his breath hitch. They might have thrown on some ratty Flyers double xl tee shirts, but that’s the only layer between Jess’s warm legs and Mike’s skin. He stops spinning for a second and squeezes her as tightly as he can. He can’t help the way the little thoughts creep back into his head, like, how the railing would be just the right height for pushing Jess against so he could drop to his knees in front of her, or how the counters downstairs are the right height for him to bend Jess over, and see how quickly he could make her stop caring about the view.

It's actually a blessing when Jess jumps out of his arms and interrupts his thoughts about christening her new house.

-*3*-

  
Most of the time, Jess and Mike have adjoining hotel rooms. They could probably share a room, but the amount of questions that would raise from the already invasive media is not worth it to Mike’s mind. Plus, a little bit of privacy is nice on the road. Sure, a sock on the door knob is universal. But sometimes you just want to skip jerking it in the shower and instead lay out on the bed and take your time, or at least Mike likes to do that and likes not having to make eye contact with Jess while he explains that.

And Jess, for the record, makes plenty of use of her private room. She’s famous in all the big hockey markets, and she’s a tall, leggy blond with a great body in all the cities they go to that don’t know there’s a local hockey team. Mike knows she gets it when she wants it just because he knows hockey players and he knows Jess. Probably the whole team knows that too.

The problem is their adjoining door, which is less sound proof than the rest of the hotel walls, which aren’t especially sound proof to begin with. And Mike slowly starts to lose his resolve to not listen in, not care what’s happening on the other side of the door. It starts with him just trying to figure out if there’s like a pattern; if she sleeps with her fans, maybe guys who like hockey but not her, or if she only ever sleeps with randoms. It's a mix, Mike can say after years of shameful research. When they’re randoms, she takes care to make sure not to tell them she’s an athlete. Usually she says she’s in public relations, which is one of the funniest mental images possible, and he really wishes he could tell her that.

He held off on really, truly listening in for as long as he could. Years. But one night in Ottawa, he hears her moan through the wall. It catches his attention. He’s never heard her sound like that. It's desperate and a little bit whiny, but also a moan from her chest and it's just unmistakably sexual. Mike’s never really been jealous before, certainly not of the disposable men who are on the other side of Jess’s door. But he’s jealous right then. Jealous that he isn’t in the one laid out in bed with her, jealous that he isn’t the one between her legs, jealous that she’s not moaning for him.

He gives up his resolution not to try to listen in on her right there, quickly enough to be disappointed in himself as he puts his ear against the door. But then Jess inhales sharply, then sighs out slowly and fuck. That’s a nice sound. He hears the bed start shaking, and very faintly but also very clearly, Mike hears a male voice say, “fuck, your legs are flexible.”

With that Mike has to get into the shower. He turns it to cold, because he’d like to think he still has some decency but the cold water doesn’t chase away the images. It's…. She’s gotta have her leg over his shoulder. She can put her legs behind her head, one at a time, Mike knows that from watching her take drunk bets. He hates that he knows that. Now he can picture it perfectly. Jess is probably flat on her back, with one leg hooked over this guys shoulder while he leans over her. Just getting dicked down, tits bouncing every thrust. Mike hopes the guy has the decency to play with them, to lean down and suck on her nipples, pushing her leg down with him, opening her up even more. Hopes this asshole in the other room is getting her good, Mike thinks, hopes he’s fucking enjoying having Jess’s long ass legs around him. Wonders if she still has her leg over his shoulder, if maybe he’s holding her leg, leaving little bruises. Wonders if the dude has a beard, if you can give someone beard burn on their leg from that angle.

Mike slowly realizes that he’s touching the scruff on his own face as he’s contemplating this, and Jesus Christ. He makes the water warmer, and very carefully starts thinking of Jenna Jamenson before he finally puts his hand around his dick.

It doesn’t work. He cums quickly, with an image of Jess lying underneath him with her eyes rolling back burned into his brain.

-*4*-

  
There was never any question in Mike’s mind that Jess was going to come live with him the second the trade is announced. He has a stupidly large house for one person and one dog, Jess is his best friend, and he hasn’t seen her in a very long time. Of course she’s going to stay with him.

She assumes the same thing when they talk on the phone. Mike find outs later that he’s the first call she makes after she gets the news, before her agent, or her mom, or a moving company or anything. She calls him. It's comforting to know that. It lays to rest the tiny, gnawing fear in the back of his mind that maybe they weren’t the two perfectly slotted puzzle pieces he liked to think they were, and just two people who adapted to living in each other’s pocket who weren’t going to be the same after they moved apart. Jess’s voice is so full of life on the phone, and Mike feels like ten pounds lighter when she starts reading him her flight numbers, and no. They’re really both in this thing for real.

What’s a little more of a surprise is that apparently the entire front offices of both the Kings and the Bluejackets also assume that Jess is going to live with him. The Kings send stuff to his house, boring legal papers that say we promise to report all sex tapes and picture of coke on our noses to the team asap, for Jess to sign when she gets there. A liaison calls to double check if they should send a car to get Jess or if he’s getting her, and if he needs the flight number. Mike answers all these questions mechanically, and it's not until he’s in his car on the way to the airport that he realizes that at no point was he asked if Jess was living with him and if he wanted to be in charge of her. Everyone just… knew.

He sees her before she sees him, but only by a second. It means he sees her recognize him from across the arrivals. For a few seconds, he wants so badly for her to run and jump into his arms. He wants her not to care what anyone will say about that, he wants to have the silliness of the moment with her, and mostly he wants to have her wrapped around him. It was never really going to go that way, and it still feels perfect when she ducks down so her head can be resting on his shoulder and stays that way for several beats.

He looks at the suitcases next to them when she lets go, and knows she didn’t pack enough. Typical of her, always leaving something in her beach house that she needed in Philly or something in her old house in Philly every time the Jackets went through. He doesn’t say anything, just mentally starts counting down to finding out the first thing she forgot.

It's pajamas, of all things. She wanders into his bedroom with her ‘I need something but won’t say it unless you ask me’ face on. Mike has missed her, so he indulges her and does the asking.

“What do you need?”

“Something to sleep in,” she says.

“How the fuck did you forget pajama?” he asks, already opening his drawers.

“I was in a rush, I don’t know! It's warm here anyway, I’ll just sleep naked,” she says.

“I mean, you can have a shirt,” Mike says, and throws the first giant one he can find at her.

It's an old Kitchener Rangers shirt, extremely worn in. Honestly, it's probably the worst shirt he owns. He still kind of needs her to wear it because he’s going to have a heart attack if she sleeps naked. Absence has not made Mike stop thinking about Jess’s legs, and how much he’d like them around his head, or any of the tiny sounds he’s heard her make over the years that he wants to coax out of her again, or just how much he fucking wants.

She catches the shirt, but hovers by the door for a minute anyway. Mike wants her to stay with him, but he has no idea how to ask for that. First of all they’re sober, and they’ve only shared a bed sober twice. Once it was his, after they lost the Stanley cup at home and had to slowly trickle out of the arena and go their separate ways. The other time it was her bed, the night they both got traded and Jess was still raw enough about it that Mike had to convince her not to drive to New Jersey overnight to hide. It was the last night she spent at her house in Philly. Not a great track record.

Second of all, she looks tired and he knows she’s nervous no matter how many times he tells her the team is great. The other women on the team have been here for ages, they like all the staff and the ownership, and everyone wants to meet her. She’ll be fine after tomorrow, but tonight probably isn’t the time to break their status quo.

“Good night Mikey,” says Jess.

“Night Cartsy,” Mike responds, and then she’s gone.

He sleeps well knowing she’s close, and he wakes up refreshed. He’s kind of forgotten that he gave Jess a shirt last night until he walks into the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks.

She has her back towards him, which covers for Mike long enough to absorb what he’s seeing. She’s reaching over her head on her tiptoes, so he has a full view of her ass. She’s wearing what he knows is her ‘gotta play hockey today’ underwear. It's plain black, no type of trim, but fuck if her ass doesn’t still look perfect. It's round and high and must be just fucking great to squeeze. Her legs look perfect to Mike, which, what a shock. What a different take from him, huh? But the counter is the perfect height for Jess to sit on, if she were to sit on it and spread her legs. Perfect for Mike to put his face between her legs and lick up so slowly, like a fucking ice cream cone. After years of waiting, she'd probably taste like ice cream to him. And he could for sure get Jess to throw her head back against the cabinets, get her moaning and subconsciously pulling his hair and bucking into his mouth. He’d like to reach up and get a fistful of her breasts while she’s panting, feel her heartbeat through his shirt.

Fuck. She’s wearing his shirt. It says “Richards 18” on the back, so anyone could look at her and see that she’s wearing his shirt. He knows this is a thing for some guys, but this is the first time that he ever gets it. His name, his number, spread across Jess’s back. She was never going to be drowning in his clothes; she’s a hockey player, she’s taller than him and, whatever, that fine with Mike. But his shirt still sits on her differently; the neck is falling off one of Jess’s shoulders because he’s wider than she is, and when she looks over her shoulder at him, still mostly asleep, he can see the shirt stretched tight over her nipples. Okay, yep. This is now a problem for him.

He walks forward a little bit and puts his arms around her waist, rests his cheek in between her shoulder blades. Right over the ‘ch’ in his name.

“I can’t believe your dumb ass forgot pajamas,” says Mike.

“I missed you too,” says Jess.

-*5*-

She grabs him on the ice, both her gloves long since thrown in the air and lost along with everyone else's. She shakes him a little, because she seems like she’s just made out of energy. Then she pulls him forward and she’s hugging him so close. Her left arm is wrapped around his shoulders and her right hand is buried in his hair, holding him against her. His nose is in the crook of her neck, and she doesn’t smell great but she does smell like hockey and hard work and holy fuck we won the cup. He has her in a vice grip and they don’t let go of each other for what feels like a long time.

He can tell that they’re both barely coherent during their interviews and that they keep bringing every question back to being together again. Jennie Quick drained a bottle of Jagermeister before she was even out of her pads, so probably he and Jess aren’t the least coherent on the team but that is a small comfort.

It's not that long before the press trickles out of the room, however, and then it's just them. Just the weird band of misfits who did the damn thing together. Everyone’s doing the dumbest thing that they can think of, even the ones who’ve been here before. Justin Williams is giving people tips on how to pour beer out of the Cup, bottle of champagne are exploding everywhere, and Rob Scuderi is adamantly not putting his mouth on the cup.

“I know what I did to that thing,” he says. He does not elaborate.

Mike settle back into his locker after a little bit, and lets it wash over him. He’s not out of the celebration, he’s enjoying being able to let his attention wander to each person’s little freak out. There was a time when he thought that not being a Flyer and not being the captain was going to be the end of him somehow. He’s so glad he was wrong.

Jess comes into his vision slowly. She stops off to slaps people’s hands, and back, and pull on Mattie’s braid like she always does now. But she doesn’t really join anyone specifically, isn’t drinking or pouring anything. Slowly she makes her way towards him. She checks in a few times, catches his eye. He hold the eye contact, and that’s all they have to do.

You see me? _Yeah I see you._ Good.

She gets close enough that she changes her path to just walking over to him. She walks up to where he’s sitting, slowly slides one knee next to him and slides her other leg in between Mike’s leg. Just enough of her weight is on his lap to be interesting, but she’s mostly curled around his right side. She puts a hand on each of his shoulders and it feels possessive. His hand is on her hip before he’s consciously thinking about anything at all; it's instinct.

“Take me home, Mike,” Jess says quietly into his ear.

“You tired of celebrating?” he asks.

“No,” she says. “It's our second final together. I want to do what we did after first.”

“Cry?” says Mike. He keeps his eyes forward. The answer she’s probably looking for is ‘go to bed’, but he’d rather sound like a dick than read this wrong in anyway at all.

“Are you going to make me cry?” asks Jess, and she is still in his lap, still warm against his side, and she still has one of her legs wrapped around one of his.

“Never,” says Mike, because it's true.

“Are you going to make me scream?” And she shifts her leg closer to his cock and grinds just the smallest amount down onto him, and this really, truly can’t be anything else. That’s scarier.

“Any day of the week babe, just say the word,” Mike says with false bravado that he knows damned well that she can see through.

There is so little space between them, and yet she still gets closer.

“Mike,” she says again, “take me home.”

-*-

Mike drives back to the house. There’s tension in the car, and it's quiet, but it's not tense. A calm silent ride back from the rink wouldn’t be that out of character for them, really.

But then there is a stop light. Jess turns her whole body towards him in the seat, and reaches for one curl just behind his ear. She twirls it around and around her fingers, and every once in a while the tips of her fingers just barely brush over the skin behind his ear. And it's not like he’s hard, it's not like that brush of skin is what he wants for the night. But by the time he pulls into the garage, he feels like he could cum from a feather.

He grabs her hand. Gently, but he grabs it, and leans back for a second. Then he leans forward and kisses her knuckles before he gets out of the car and walks around to her. They stand a foot apart, and then both turn to walk in. The air around them weighs 20 pounds, the space between them has its own gravitational pull.

They get inside and the tension is starting to turn stale. Something has to happen, now.

“Last one upstairs is a rotten eggs,” says Jess, and takes off running.

It's so fucking stupid and so them, and Mike is less then a second behind her. They’re both nervously giggling and taking it very seriously. They’re throwing elbows and out right shoving by the time they get to the stairs. Jess stumbles and moves into a bear crawl. Mike takes his chance, and grabs her leg above the knee to pull her back down.

She turns over as he pulls. She ends up sitting a few stairs above him, with one leg thrown out of the way and the other one in Mike’s hand. He’s practically lying down on the stairs when he starts pulling her down, and now he’s lying between her legs, running his thumb across the inner seam of her leggings and holding his head directly above her. He looks up at her. She’s looking down at him, mouth open and breathing heavily.

“Your legs are so fucking long,” he says.

“I know,” she says, and she doesn’t know, can’t know if she’s saying it so casually.

“They’re so fucking long, and I’ve wanted to have them wrapped around me since the first fucking time I saw you,” Mike says.

“Oh,” Jess breaths out.

“Take these off,” he says, and starts pulling off the workout leggings and her underwear in the same go while she braces herself against the stairs to help. He pulls them clean off and throws them fucking where ever, who cares, because now he needs her to understand what this is.

He sits up and looks down at her. Her shirt is hiked up a little (it says 2012 Stanley Cup Champions). She’s looking up at him, her legs are bracketing him in a perfect V shape, and he runs his hands up and down her thighs.

“I want to eat you out so much. I want to eat you out so much all the time.”

It actually feels too much to tell her that while he’s looking directly down at her, so he leans down and kisses her neck.

“I can make you scream, I swear I can and I want you to fucking wrap your legs around my head while you do so I can feel it while you cum for me,” he starts moving down, running his hands over her sides. She’s made of muscles, she just won a Stanley cup for god’s sake, and she’s still so smooth under his palms.

“I’ve thought about this so much,” he tells the skin of her hip bone, “I want to know what you taste like, I want my face to be wet from it, please Jess.”

His voice cracks on her name, and he can’t look at her. He feels her hand slide into his hair, and tighten just a little. He tilts his head up just a little, and she looks wrecked.

“Holy shit Mikey,” she whispers, and his hands tighten involuntarily around her hips. “Yes, God yes, get your mouth on my cunt. If I knew that…”

Her sentence ends with a moan, because Mike can’t waste another second. He licks all the way up with the flat of his tongue. She’s wet, wet and warm, and intellectually she tastes like cum. But she tastes like Jess, and Mike is a starving man.

She pulls his hair, and he moans as he tilts up slightly. Her legs tighten as he moans, so he keeps humming under his breath as he keeps licking her clit. Up, down, side to side, in a circle, with the tip of his tongue, slowly, quickly, every single way that Mike can think to get a new taste of her cunt and a new sound out of her mouth.

And somehow it's perfect that no matter how much time he’s spent thinking about this, Jess has a trick up her sleeve. Because it's not like sitting next to her on the bus or during video review; she’s doesn't have private, short sentence to say under her breath not more than twice every five minute.

She talks, and it's dirty.

“Eat my cunt just like that, fuck, oh fuck. I’ve spent so much money on vibrators I’m never using again. Mike, I’m waking you up every day by riding your face. There. There, harder but right there.”

Mike sucks a little on the spot, and she screams. He could cum in his fucking pants from this. He probably will.

“Why didn’t I know,” Jess moans and tightens her grip on his hair so slightly, “Did you know? Did you know that I want to ride you in every hotel room we’re in? That I want you to fuck me against the windows at my beach house and leave hand prints on the glass. Don’t stop.”

She flexes her hand in his hair, and keeps talking.

“I love your hair, when it's long, I’ve always wanted to pull it. I used to hook up with guys just because they had hair like yours,I know that’s not buddies. I'm sorry. God Mikey how did you learn to eat pussy like this.”

Mike pulls back slightly, and runs his hand over the tops of her legs. He looks up at her. She’s red, and her back is arching off the stairs and her check is rising and falling so rapidly.

“Do it,” he says, and holy shit does his voice sound wrecked.

“Do what,” she whines.

“Pull my hair,” he says, and presses back down.

He grabs her ass and pulls her as close to him he can while still breathing. She does pull his hair, sinks both hands into it, and pulls on just the right side of too hard. He moans, and her legs tighten around his head. He feels the way her toes curl on the small of his back and he rides with her as she shakes. Her legs fall off his shoulder slowly, but she starts tugging on his hair until he picks his head up to look at her. She keeps tugging, and he goes up on his knees until she can sit up and be almost like face to face with him. Her hands fall out of his hair and she runs them down the side of his neck and on to his chest.

“Get your dick out,” she says, and it's so quiet in comparison.

“Huh?” Mike says, lost in her face, and Jess reaches down to unbutton his pants herself.

“Pull it out,” she says, and looks up at him through her lashes, “I want to see.”

“Jesus Christ,” says Mike, and he has to still her hands and take a deep breath before he can even think about doing that.

“What’s the matter?” she whispers, and Mike kisses her.

She fucking purrs into his mouth, and this is stuff that Mike couldn’t even dream about it's so good. He gets his zipper down, and one hand around his dick before he feels Jess’s hand touch his.

It takes their combine hands two strokes, and he breaks the kiss to ride it out. Jess lets him breath for a second, then he looks up and their eyes meet.

She kisses him again, achingly slowly. Mike wants to put his arms around her, but at the last minute he remembers that it's got cum on it.

“Wanna shower?” he asks.

-*-

There are three different showers in the house; they share the one off his bedroom. It's not the most spacious, but they really do just rinse off before tumbling into Mike’s bed. He runs his fingers through her hair as they lay there. He isn't afraid to any more. What is he hiding? If Jess hasn't gotten it by now, that's on her. He tucks the strand of blond behind her ear, and she stares at him.

“This whole time?” she asks. He nods. “Really?”

“The first time I saw you was when we played some exhibition game for the OHL and we were on the same team. Your stall was across from mine,” Mike says.

“I remember that game,” says Jess, “Well, not the game, but you were the only one who wanted to drink with me.”

“You were the only one who could keep up with me,” Mike laughs.

“I always figured that if you wanted to make a move it would have been in one of the hotels when we had adjoining doors. So I figured that you didn’t want to make a move.”

“I tried so hard not to listen through those doors. I still did sometimes,” says Mike, and he cups her face with him hand to he can run his thumb over her cheekbone.

“What did you hear?” asks Jess.

“The sound of blood rushing to my dick,” says Mike.

Jess laughs, and it turns into a yawn at the end. She rolls closer, and puts her hand on Mike’s chest.

“Hey Mike,” she says sleepily, “Do you remember that rocky cove where you can see people coming but they can’t see you. It's like a mile up the beach from my house?”

“I do yeah,” Mike says.

“What to have sex there?”

This was a good idea. Of course this was a good idea, thinks Mike. How could the two of them not be a good idea?

“I would love to. Hey Jess,” he says in the same voice, “Do you remember that Halloween we rented a limo for? I was a cop.”

“Mhm,” says Jess from where she’s start to curl up against him in a sleepy way, “I was a bunny. That costume is in storage in Philadelphia somewhere.”

“Want to pull it out so I can have sex with you while you’re wearing it?”

Jess slides her legs under his, and wraps an arm around him.

“Let's do it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Its now a new decade, and its been 4 years since I was actively in this fandom in capacity, and I have decided to make my return by posting a story that takes place primary before 2012 with a pairing that has not generated new content in years, and I made it a porny sex/genderswap. 
> 
> We'll see how this goes for me.


End file.
